


Unifying Seams

by ShuaWrites



Series: HEARTBEAT! Origin Stories [3]
Category: HEARTBEAT (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 10:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShuaWrites/pseuds/ShuaWrites
Summary: A short-story detailing Cass's childhood and how he became who he is.





	Unifying Seams

Just as Oliver said, you don’t need to worry yourself too much with those Sirens. Him and I are partners: we’ve been pacted for three years! Do you know how much trouble it is to get him to take his showers, sheesh! Anywho, I’ll need to simplify some stuff in the story so that you could understand; not sure if Mogwai know about parents being divorced and what not. It sucks.

I was born and raised in Neo Awlins, an entire continent that's pretty far from here in Harbei. My parents were Mateo and Alma Palmieri; they encouraged me to do baseball back then, and I was four when I joined my first tee-ball team. It was a church league, since apparently churches like to have the kids of their followers to partake in sports? I never really understood that, but it was still fun. My cousin and I, Cordero, were always on the same team for years; we were practically inseparable and unstoppable. From when I was four all the way to when I was ten, Cordero and I led our teams to countless victories. We normally left the games with a twenty point lead ahead of the other team, we even made it on the local news at one point when we destroyed the rookie league championship. 

It wasn’t till we hit the minor leagues that we got separated. Cordero’s dad signed him up for a travel-ball team, and I never got the chance to see him as often. He got into All-Star teams and all that fancy stuff, while I just stayed back and played like I normally did. I began to lose interest in the sport when I became thirteen and started to participate in the major league. I used to be good at batting and fielding, but once I entered the majors, I started to suck at batting. Mainly because I grew scared of the ball and the pitchers.

When I was in the dugout to gather my glove and prepare to stand at third base, my father approached me and began speaking through the fence. He showed me a side of him that I never knew existed. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but if he was being blatantly aggressive and intentionally tried to anger me, he had succeeded in doing so. Soon after, we were called into the field. Through for the majority of the last inning, I just stood there at third base, contemplating over what he said and why he did so. I was furious at that point. 

There were two outs, the batter had hit a grounder towards me, and he started sprinting down the baseline. Then, it was like all thought processes had just seized in my brain. My body moved without my command, scooping up the ball and launching it directly towards the first baseman as it shot past the pitcher. He had managed to catch the canon shot of a throw before the batter reached the base, earning them their third out and marking the end of the game. Our team had won. I was then pulled back into reality when I felt multiple people rush over and pat me on the back and praise my throw from across the diamond. I wanted to be happy, but I couldn’t shake off what my own father had told me. 

Our coaches treated us to an after-game snack of granola bars and juice boxes; it was rather tacky, but I needed the comfort of food at the time. My father then approached me once more, apologizing profusely for what he had said. At first, I ignored him. I wasn’t angry anymore, but I was still rather annoyed. “Tu mama wanted me to say those things to you,” he said at the end, his words causing my heart to tighten with stress and growing hatred. But I just sat there, pulling down the visor of my cap to block out the view from my eyes as I continued to eat my snack. My mom always said I had the eyes of a bull whenever I got angry, but I always wondered why she pointed it out, and I’ve heard her say that many times before. 

Two weeks later would’ve been the last game of the season, and the last time I played baseball. We were in need of pitchers at the time, and my coach decided to begin training me to be one after my fantastical throw from the other game. I was never good at pitching, I was always just the catcher or third baseman thanks to my size. 

It was game night; we were on the last inning and my coach told me that if we won, I’d be heading into the All-Stars league. I could’ve finally played with Cordero. But that dream was quickly crushed once he put me on the pitcher’s mound. Suffice it to say, I ruined my only chance to play ball with my cousin. After the game: my mother had walked into the dugout, grabbed my things, took out my aluminium bat, and began banging it against a metal pole till it was disfigured and bent in half. And I just stood there while she did this for five minutes. Nobody came over to at least calm down the situation, and she did this before anyone else had the chance to leave. 

My heart tightened as I kept my anger and emotions sealed inside. My body was essentially a pressure cooker at this point; it kept the stress inside, and if anyone bumped into it, or weren’t careful, then it would explode. My heart kept racing and pounding against my chest, then my mother turned to glare at me; I panicked, hard. My body was paralyzed with fear, I couldn’t even breathe properly; my heart felt like it exploded within my chest. 

Thankfully, my father decided that enough was enough: he had run over from the field when he was talking to one of the coaches, then the two started arguing about a whole bunch of things. “Cass, we’ll be leaving here soon, once I take everything I paid with my own money from the house and your things,” my father said to try to reassure me, calling for the ambulance while he stayed by my side to ease my panic. “If you’re taking everything ‘you paid for’ then I’ll be taking Cass,” she stated without much thought. Hearing that pushed me over the edge, so, I blacked out.

After that night, it was all just a rollercoaster for the next few years. My dad and Alma got a divorce a year later. I was put into therapy, and it turned out I suffered from PTSD and minor anxiety. I had to quit baseball and began to fall into a depression afterwards; I no longer cared for the sport and Dad tried to ease my stress by allowing me to do whatever I wanted; things like trying out for the school band and buying my first telescope to stargaze. I kept journals of the different stars and constellations that I found, and I grew to take an interest in astrology. Though I only admired the beauty of it and the different cultural stories behind it rather than studying the science behind it.

For music, I had joined the school band in my first year of highschool; I was a saxophone player and I loved it to bits. I even joined a Jazz Club that allowed students to bring their instruments and play, well, jazz during the lunch period. We met up every other week, thus began my musical career later in my life. 

Later on, my dad had gifted me my first pair of yo-yos when I turned fourteen. I was always interested in them; I spent my summer watching professional tournament playbacks and the like. Even performers that tied yo-yo tricks with music and dance were always graceful and left a lasting impression on me. Though I knew I couldn’t become like the professionals, I always aspired to become one. 

I spent whatever free time I had to practice my tricks; most of my nights were spent training my sleight of hand more than anything. Months and many broken yo-yos later, I’ve become adequate at using separate styles of yo-yoing. Even at the cost at leaving behind many scars against my hands due to the many times that I hit myself with them. 

When I became 17 years of age, I started uploading my first arrangements and music on the wide-web under the name of ConstantCasscade. It was slow at first, but I gained somewhat of a following. The few people that did listen to my music left nothing but positive vibes; there were criticisms when I asked for them and they helped me improve. I became confident in my work, taking pride in what I did, and spending my time dabbling with other forms of music. 

I started out with jazz with my saxophone and using samples, went on to use the bass guitar and started making the leap into funk. Once I got older and was able to make a living off of music, a whole new world opened up before me, one in which I can fill it with song and my soul. I always like to play music with themes that inspire or bring others together, I would never wish the separation I had to go through with my own family against others. Even if I was adopted, I was still apart of a family.

I toured throughout Neo Awlins, performing in different venues, parties, and even festivals. I gave up portions of my earnings to charities for orphans, and I helped fund the construction of a foster home under the Unified Seams project that I spearhead with my music. I play to make others happy, and seeing the smiles on people’s faces drives me further. Then I met Oliver.

I was touring through Piecewood, doing my usual performances, and sharing my passion and soul with the residents. I decided to stop at Snowver for two days to have a bit of a personal vacation and enjoy stargazing on the mountainside. It was rather late at night, the dark blue sky acting as a canvas for the brilliant display of the celestial bodies up above. The stars that night were truly beautiful, though nothing had me more infatuated than him on that wondrous night. 

I could gush over Oliver for the rest of the story, but just know that I am forever grateful that we met on that starlit, winter night on Snowver. He is my first love, and I promised to be by his side until all the stars die out. We soon pacted when we disembarked from Snowver; we traveled throughout Solum together, and I even taught Oliver how to play drums since I assumed he’d like it due to his high energy. 

And so, we came back to Piecewood and decided to visit Harbei and spend a day off at the Cirruwa Forest. We were enjoying a little picnic and a jam session, then all of a sudden, you appear before us. So, Sakis, what are you going to do from here? Do you plan to join Oliver and I? I wouldn’t mind having the extra company, and you seem a bit shaken up. I don’t want to leave you behind.


End file.
